


DIY In High Winds

by darthrevaan (Burning_Nightingale)



Series: Send Me A Ship AU Fics [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, F/M, First Meetings, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/darthrevaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breaking bones and ending up in the Accident & Emergency room results in a chance meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DIY In High Winds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an ask meme on tumblr.

“Here, I got you some more tissue.”

Anakin was trying not to groan or make any other noise that indicated he was in pain, but a low hiss managed to escape as he changed the blood-soaked tissues for the fresh ones. “Can’t believe it’s still bleeding,” he said, trying to make light of the situation.

It didn’t seem to make Obi-Wan feel better. He was wringing his hands, the same expression of worry on his face that had been there for the past two hours. “I really am sorry, Anakin-”

“It wasn’t your fault, it was the shed.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t suggested we put it up-”

“Hey, I agreed, and I knew how windy it was.” Anakin grinned. “Besides, Qui-Gon said it would make me look dashing.”

“I’m sure he was just trying to make you feel better,” Obi-Wan said, unimpressed.

“Why? You think I’ll look ugly with my broken nose?”

Obi-Wan looked stricken. “No, of course not, you’ll be fine-”

“Hey, hey,” Anakin patted his arm. “Don’t get so worked up, I didn’t mean it. I know I’m still going to be the best-looking guy in the house.”

Obi-Wan gave him a little smile. “Well, considering your only competition is Qui-Gon, Dooku and myself, it isn’t really all that hard.”

“What are you talking about? The ladies  _love_ Dooku. You know what they say about a silver fox.”

That actually did make Obi-Wan laugh. “You’re incorrigible.” He sighed and glanced around the busy waiting room. “I’m going to go get a cup of caf. Do you want anything?”

“Mmm. See if they have any muffins.”

Obi-Wan nodded and got up, melting into the crowd as he made his way to the exit marked with a sign to the cafeteria. Anakin sat back, trying not to accidently press too hard on his nose.

The Accident and Emergency room was very busy that afternoon, probably because it was the weekend. They’d been here for two hours already, but at least the crowd gave them something to look at. Anakin certainly hadn’t envied the guy with the horribly broken leg, even if he had been able to go in almost straight away.

There weren’t many seats left, so he wasn’t exactly surprised when two young women took the two empty chairs on his left. The one next to him was clutching her hand, where her middle finger was bent out of shape and swollen. “I’ll go and get you some tea,” her friend said, draping her coat over her own chair. “Would you like a chocolate bar or something?”

“Sure,” the other girl said, her voice wavering slightly.

When her friend had disappeared into the crowd, Anakin noticed that the girl was squeezing her hand, biting her lip, obviously trying and failing to alleviate the pain. “You’re probably going to be waiting a while, with that,” he commented.

She looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “Oh…yes. It is busy, isn’t it?” She peered at his face with concern. “What happened to you?”

“Got in a fight with a shed roof.”

Her lips twitched at the corners, as if she wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure it would be appropriate. “What started it?”

“Oh, you know how men get when someone insults their DIY skills.”

This time she did giggle quietly. “Are you alright, though? Is it broken?”

Anakin shrugged. “Yeah, broken. It hurts, and it’s still bleeding, but the nurse said to just keep tissue on it until they can see me to reset it.”

She winced. “You know, I have some painkillers in my bag, if you want them.”

He smiled. “I’ve already had some, but thanks.” He nodded to her hand. “You might want to keep them for yourself anyway. I remember how much that hurts.”

“You’ve broken your finger before?”

“Two fingers, playing lacrosse.” He laughed. “We won the state title, though, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Well, that’s better than my story. I just got my finger caught in the door handle while we were leaving the restaurant.”

Anakin winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. And it was supposed to be a celebration dinner, too.”

“Of?”

“Oh, our debate team won yesterday. We went out for a meal last night afterward.” She ducked her head, looking embarrassed. “I said it was fine, but when I woke up this morning and it looked swollen and bent like this, Sabé insisted that we come to the hospital.”

“Your friend, right?” Anakin nodded in the direction she’d disappeared. “I’m Anakin, by the way.”

“Padmé,” she said with a small smile. “And yes, Sabé is my flat mate.”

“I didn’t want to come either, but Obi-Wan insisted. He feels really bad because he suggested we put up the shed today, even though it’s windy. We hadn’t nailed down one half of the roof, see, and then the wind picked it up and blew it off and it hit me in the face.”

Padmé winced. “Now my story really does sound silly in comparison.”

“You weren’t the one doing DIY in high winds,” Anakin laughed.

Padmé giggled, and Anakin decided he really liked that sound. “I guess. What was the shed for, anyway?”

“Growing plants. Qui-Gon’s a botanist, and he likes growing new species. He does some of it in the backyard at the shop, but there was this incident with a creeping vine growing over into some of the other pots and Obi-Wan got mad at him and relegated all experimental growing to our garden. Then Qui-Gon guilted him into putting up the shed to protect the delicate ones.”

Padmé looked amused. “Are these people your house mates, your friends…?”

“They’re my adopted family. I guess you could call Qui-Gon like my dad, but I’ve never called him that. That would make Obi-Wan the annoying elder brother and Dooku the grandfather, I guess.” Anakin grinned at the thought. “Dooku was an award-winning gardener, and he started his own flower shop. Obi-Wan runs that now he’s retired. I work there in my spare time.”

“That sounds nice.” Padmé sighed. “I don’t have the time to get a part-time job, even if it would be nice to have the extra money. I have to do so much extracurricular stuff, you know, to try and improve my…” She seemed to search for a word. “To have a list of accomplishments, I suppose. I want to go into politics, and you know how every good politician was always the head of the model Senate, or the captain of the rowing team, or the president of the debate society. Which I am, by the way.”

Anakin frowned for a moment. “Not the debate team at Counts’?” Counts’ College was the local and prestigious university, and Anakin had heard his friends there mention that their debate team was on a winning streak.

“Yes, actually.” Padmé looked intrigued. “Do you go there?”

Anakin shook his head. “No, I’m at St. Halyire’s, actually.”

Padmé looked impressed. “The art school? They say it’s very difficult to get a place there.”

“Yeah, competition is tough. But it’s really good once you’re in. They’ve got so many resources, you can try out anything you want. We were trying our hand at moss painting the other day.”

Padmé smiled. “What’s your favourite medium?”

“Just simple pencil and paper, usually.” Anakin laughed. “I have hundreds of filled sketchbooks at home.”  _You’d be a great subject_ , he thought, but managed to stop himself saying it just in time.

“Well, I’m a Political Science major at Counts’,” Padmé said. “I’m from Naboo, though.”

Anakin blinked, surprised. “That’s a long way to come for school.”

“Yes. My parents wanted me to go to UoC, but Coruscant is so loud and busy. Plus, the course here is so much more appealing, and a degree from Counts’ has just the same standing as one from UoC. Or so my tutor says, anyway.” She shrugged.

“Funny, Dooku wanted me to go to Coruscant as well. He usually gets the say, he’s like the head of the family and stuff. He said CUFA was just as good as St Halyire’s and I’d get some culture, but what’s the point of spending all that money living on Coruscant when I could save money by living at home while still getting a degree from one of the best art schools in the galaxy?”

Padmé smiled. “Plus, it’s nice to live at home.”

Anakin snorted. “You probably have a rose-tinted view, since you don’t anymore.”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

Anakin jumped slightly as he heard a familiar cough behind him. “I got you your muffin,” Obi-Wan said, eyeing Padmé with curiosity. “And some more tissue. Here.”

“Thanks,” Anakin said, exchanging the tissue again and grabbing the muffin. “Obi-Wan, this is Padmé. She’s at Counts’. Careful shaking hands though, she’s broken her finger.”

Padmé laughed, and Obi-Wan smiled. “Nice to meet you,” he said, going for a handshake with Padmé’s uninjured hand.

“Making friends?” another voice asked, and Padmé’s friend – Sabé, Anakin reminded himself – appeared with a two cups and a chocolate bar.

“Sabé is at Counts’ too,” Padmé said, taking her cup of tea. “She’s reading Galactic Literature.”

“Hey, isn’t your degree in Galactic Literature, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

“Yes, it is,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “Do they still make you study  _The Life and Times of Marlon de’Lau_? Everyone had to read that when I was at school.”

“Yes, and it’s still the most boring thing in existence.” Sabé leant forward, interested. “Did you go to Counts’?”

“No, University of Stewjon, actually.”

Sabé tilted her head inquisitively. “So you speak Stewjoni, then? I was told they don’t run the classes in Basic.”

“They don’t. It’s very snobbish.”

“Not as snobbish as the admissions system at UoA. Did you know…”

“People reading the same subject can talk for hours once you let them get going,” Anakin said quietly to Padmé, grinning.

“You think this is bad. Wait until you get two philosophy majors together. Then you might as well be invisible.”

Anakin laughed, then spotted a doctor heading their way. “Watch out, this one could be ours.”

Padmé spotted him too. “Oh no. If he’s coming he’s coming for you, and then I’ll be left alone with these two.”

“Just don’t let them start on Pre-Ruusan literature. That’s what Obi-Wan did his dissertation on, he can talk for hours about it.”

“Mr Skywalker?” the doctor asked.

“Jackpot.” Anakin grinned apologetically at Padmé. “Do you go out to the student bar at Counts’?”

“Sometimes,” Padmé said, smiling.

“Well, hey, maybe I’ll see you there.” Anakin stood up.

“Maybe you will,” he heard her say as he turned.

The break was quite nasty, the doctor said, but should heal with time. It sure hurt a lot when he cracked it back into place, but Anakin resolved to grit his teeth and bear it. The doctor gave him a shot to ward off infection, another of painkillers, then packed Anakin’s nostrils with a gauze pad to stop the bleeding. “Don’t try to remove it yourself,” the doctor warned. “The nurse will book an appointment for you to see your doctor in a few days, and they’ll do it for you. Then you’ll need to see a specialist in a week or two, just to check everything’s healing correctly. And be careful with it. Once the nose has broken once, it’s easier to break again.” He smiled. “I know they say it’s a dashing look for the ladies, but in reality it’s really not great for your health.”

“I’ll remember. Thanks, doc,” Anakin nodded to him.

“No problem. I hope your shed looks good when it’s finished.”

Once Anakin had sorted out all the admin, he returned to Obi-Wan in the waiting room. He was a bit disappointed to find him alone. “Everything sorted?” Obi-Wan asked as he stood up.

“Yeah. Gotta see the doctor again in a few days. Feel a bit light-headed; those painkillers he gave me are kicking in.”

“Let’s get you home, then.” Obi-Wan picked up his coat, then paused with a smile. “Oh, and this was left for you by a certain young lady.” He handed over a scrap of paper.

Anakin grinned at the string of numbers. “Awesome. When did they leave, anyway?”

“You only just missed them, sadly.”

“Did you get the other girl’s number?” Anakin asked as they walked out.

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “Anakin, she was twenty one.”

“And?”

“ _And_ I’m thirty six.”

“A lot of girls like older guys.”

“No.”

“Obi-Wan, you haven’t had a girlfriend or a boyfriend for  _ages-_ ”

“And I’m sick of you trying to set me up, just in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You need to get laid,” Anakin insisted as they climbed into the speeder.

“No, I’m not sure I do. Now, please drop it. And message Qui-Gon and Dooku to tell them you’re alright.” With that Obi-Wan turned on the engine and flicked the radio on.

Anakin shook his head, grinning, and brought out his comm. After firing off a quick message to Qui-Gon and Dooku, he added Padmé as a contact, then sent her a short message.  _–how’s the finger?_

Not a minute later, his comm pinged.  _–Better. What about your nose?_

_–fine-ish, painkillers kicking in_

There was a pause before her next message arrived.  _–You remember you mentioned the student bar? Are you going to the Black & White party on Wednesday night?_

Anakin grinned to himself.  _–not yet_

_–Well, I have this really great new white dress, but nobody else wants to wear black…_

_–black jeans are my staple xD doors open at 8, right?_

_–We’re doing pre-drinks at 6. Flat eight, Preliin House, it’s on campus. Just ring the buzzer to get in ;)_

_–i’ll see you then :D_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Padmé’s injury and the long wait in A&E was inspired by the story my flat mate told over dinner yesterday about his long day in A&E with his friend and her broken finger. Anakin’s injury was inspired by the same thing happening to my dad, though he only got a black eye. 
> 
> Counts’ College was inspired by Kings’ College, the university in London, while St. Halyire’s was inspired by St. Martin’s, the famous art school, also in London. UoC stands for University of Coruscant; CUFA stands for Courscant University of Fine Arts; UoA stands for University of Alderaan. Galactic Literature is supposed to be the Star Wars equivalent of English Literature.


End file.
